


until the end of the storm

by Heyriel



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyriel/pseuds/Heyriel
Summary: Geralt has underestimated just how much the sudden drop in temperature would affect Jaskier.-----The obligatory huddling-for-warmth fic!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 1106





	until the end of the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about the various ways in which Geralt is a Softhearted Fool™ for Jaskier has become an all-consuming pastime (please send help)
> 
> > This lil thing was written with shipping goggles on but can also be read as gen!

If all had gone according to plan they’d be in Ban Ard right now, out of the forests and mountains, safely tucked away in an inns room rented with their last coin. But the weather had turned on them and, admittedly, Geralt had vastly underestimated just how much the sudden drop in temperature would affect his human companion. So they’d stopped, made camp by an outcrop of rocks that would protect them from the worst of the wind and decided to wait out the nights' storm to continue fresh in the morning.

It was not raining, at least, but bitterly cold and windy, so the fire Geralt made burned barely well enough to warm a bit of water for tea, let alone to warm them up. Jaskier had soon turned in to his bedroll, but even above the howling of the storm, the bards small, miserable whimpers and chattering teeth could be picked up easily by the Witchers' sensitive ears.

Giving up on keeping the fire alive, Geralt sighed, got up and went over to his shaking companion, watching for a moment as the human squirmed under his blankets, trying vainly to find a position that would protect all of his limbs equally from the creeping cold. Finally taking pity on him, Geralt ignored the bards' furious yelp and noisy complaints as he plopped down behind him on his own bedroll, roughly tugging the furs and cloth loose from Jaskiers cocoon so Geralt could join him under them, adding his own bedding to the mound they were now buried under.

Jaskier really was cold. The shaking of his body was near convulsive and as he realized Geralt was not trying to drag him back out of bed but was instead spooning him, he quickly turned and burrowed closer, icy fingertips clutching Geralts' shirt, icy feet pushing between his thighs and an icy nose nuzzling at the spot where Jaskiers face was now pressed to the Witchers throat. Geralt growled involuntarily at the sudden intense proximity (really, what had he expected?) but couldn’t find it in himself to dislodge the needy creature. Instead, he made sure to tuck the blankets back in firmly around the two them before bringing his arms more fully around his friend. The human was still shaking, though slightly less so than before, and Geralt found that, quite instinctively, his hands started roaming what parts of the shivering body he could reach; broad, heavy strokes across Jaskiers shoulders, back and sides, gripping and rubbing his upper arm and carding through the soft, wind-blown hair in an attempt to bring any warmth back to the human that seemed, at that moment, so terribly vulnerable.

A confused, questioning sound was muffled against the Witchers' throat but there was no resistance to the unexpected treatment so Geralt didn’t let up. The space under their little hill of blankets warmed up fast and soon the bard was relaxing, the unhappy chattering of his teeth replaced by a contented hum as he shifted even closer to the man embracing him. His feet were still icy brands on Geralts' thighs but the Witcher accepted this as a reasonable price for Jaskiers sleepily slowing breaths and calming heartbeat. They needed to cover a large distance tomorrow to make up for lost time and the bard would need all the rest he could get.

Reasonably sure that no creatures would come stalking them through the storm howling over their campsite, Geralt, too closed his eyes. And if he used the opportunity to bury his face in Jaskiers' soft brown hair, greedily taking in the unique scent of his companion and firmly committing it to memory, well, nobody was there to know.


End file.
